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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23238829">The Long Goodbye</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chicki/pseuds/Chicki'>Chicki</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The L Word (TV 2004)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>circa 2008</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 14:02:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>667</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23238829</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chicki/pseuds/Chicki</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bette deals with her mother's Alzheimer's</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bette Porter and her Mother</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Long Goodbye</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=My+beloved+mother">My beloved mother</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this Fan Fic a couple of years after my mother was diagnosed with this dreadful disease.  Ironically, I had no clue how much of this story would end up resonating only 7 years later.  I am grateful she never forgot who I was, though there were many times she thought I was her sister, or someone else.  When I held her hand as she took her last breath, she had still remembered me.  This is dedicated to my beloved mother whom I miss each and every day.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>THE LONG GOODBYE</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>By Chicki</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>I sat on the rugged rock as I looked at the ocean below and in the distance.  It was incredibly vast and powerful.  The life that existed beneath the water’s surface was immeasurable.  How much of life existed like that – of those things which were immeasurable of which were yet to be discovered? </p><p>As my eyes stared at the diamonds that danced upon the water from the powerful sun above, I thought of where I came from and where I was going.  Life had changed…enormously.  The roles I once played in some people’s lives had nearly flipped, and I found it a challenge…but…it was important to step into roles unfamiliar to me but which were necessary none the less.</p><p>I watched as a seagull flew with such grace through the air as it shared its freedom with the fresh blue sky above.   I yearned for that escape – to will myself weightless and remove the pain which came unexpectedly.   It had been a few years…and while she left me a little bit each day that passed by, I still could not accept it or the feelings of abandonment.</p><p>While I stared at the majestic bird and those that joined the free spirit, I recalled moments of my past.  There had been pain, pain which I had not welcomed or invited into my life – but it was also a learning experience for me, for I would not be the woman I am today had I not felt such sorrow, and hurt.  It helped me to appreciate those moments which brought happiness, contentment, and peace to my life.  Perhaps I would not have appreciated those moments had I not known those difficult days.</p><p>Tomorrow is Mother’s Day, and I will once more make the visit.  She won’t know me…it’s been two years since she has forgotten her two daughters.  Kit had seemed to accept it more than I, but she had been living in Europe and wasn’t as close to the situation as I.   It was hard to watch the woman who had lived a strong and somewhat independent life turn inward and weak.  I often noticed the fear in her eyes when the confusion set in.  The day she started to lose interest in eating those meals which pleased her palette was not only surprising, but in many ways devastating.  Mom loved to cook…loved to make meals for her family.  In many ways, it was those meals that brought everyone together on Sundays, and no matter that Kit was married and had her own family, or that I had my own with Tina and Angelica.  No…Mom expected that tradition to continue.   When a few Sundays came, and the dinner’s started to taste a little different, or her sudden rush from the table because she forgot something on the stove, we realized that these Sunday dinners would one day be no more.  </p><p>It’s called the long goodbye, because every day they leave you a little bit at a time…</p><p>Tomorrow is Mother’s Day and I will sit with her, and I will hold her hand if she will let me.  I will look at the frail body that sinks into the chair, and though some say she is just a shell now; with no memory of yesterday, no understanding of today, and no hope for tomorrow –  she is still my mother, and she hasn’t said goodbye yet.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>           ~ THE END ~</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>© 2010 Chicki </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Disclaimer: </em>
</p><p>This Fan Fiction posting contains fictitious characters and a fictitious storyline. Most characters belong to Ilene Chaiken and Showtime Television.  Readers must not modify, copy/plagiarize, disseminate, or take action in reliance upon it, unless permitted by the said author of this Fan Fiction posting. None of the materials provided on this Fan Fiction posting may be used, reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including the use of any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from author.</p>
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